


Not Alone

by saint_troll



Series: Not... [2]
Category: The Cell (2000)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-14
Updated: 2006-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-26 11:22:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saint_troll/pseuds/saint_troll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reality shifts...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Transferring my work from livejournal to here.

Fingers press into the web of his hand over and over again. Novak’s breathing quickens when he realizes that this must have become reality at some point along the way. He’s no longer able to escape, and as Stargher King draws nearer, Peter’s thinking that maybe he doesn’t really want to leave. Fingers once drenched in his blood now drag across the detective’s cheek faltering but for a moment upon his lips.

Even as the blade nears his mouth, Peter’s surprisingly calm. The sting as the metal slices into the corner of his lips is hardly felt as he loses himself in servility. His tongue flickers out to taste the blood that Stargher has spread over his lips. Closing his eyes, Novak gives himself over to the beast.

***

Neck arched impossibly high within his metal collar, Peter’s eyes flutter open. He’s expecting to wake in the hospital suspended in a sinewy, red jumpsuit. The metallic sound of clockwork draws his attention to his real surroundings. Window after window, bleached skin and hair is exposed. Each and every single woman tethered by chains and pulleys performing for one single puppet master.

Ever so slowly Novak’s senses return. His spine arches with an indefinable weight. He feels no pain, but something isn’t quite right. Arms raised high, Peter remembers. The organ grinder… Catherine watching as Stargher tore his guts slowly from within him… then the feeling of absolute belonging… of giving up everything just for the peace that fell over him when Stargher’s hands were upon him.

Arms outstretched, Peter’s form wavers as the chains reaching from his spine out and attached to his arms like wings crash together in a struggle of brilliance and beauty. Fingers claw at metal that forms against his palms up to his fingertips like it was melted and cooled there. The chilled press of his restraints leave Novak with little doubt that he’s completely at the King’s mercy.

***

The curving arch of flesh paler than death itself draws Peter from disjointed slumber. Stomach pressed into stiff black sheets, Novak jerks away from the scent of blood that permeates the room. The press of a nose and lips against his back stops him. His muscles scream as chains prevent him from dragging himself away from the monster slowing inching up his back. Immobilized but untethered, Peter cuts his eyes over his shoulder. He’s met with the hollow eyes of a demon. Everything goes black as a scream tears from his lungs and echoes through out the room.

***

A soft spoken lullaby floats through out the air. Gentle hands press against Peter’s forehead. Sight blurry from sleep, it takes him a moment to focus. Locks of long blonde hair surround the face of an angel bearing a remarkable resemblence to Carl Stargher. Novak opens his mouth to speak only to be shushed by the tender touch of a finger to his lips. The young man is shaking his head at him. A smile plays upon the Carl’s face before the whispers hit Peter’s ears. “Not alone…”


End file.
